Opinions
by SHolmes4
Summary: John convinces Sherlock to come out with him and Sarah's friend... for a double date?
1. Chapter 1

"I must insist that you eat something, it's been nearly a week since your last meal." I said to him gaining a perturbed look in return. "And I mean a proper meal not some crude sandwich you just threw together." I stood my ground, my hands on my hips.  
"I am not hungry." Sherlock simply replied.  
"I did not ask you whether you where hungry or not, I'm telling you we are leaving right now and having a proper dinner, even if I have to tie you down."  
"That might cause quite a stir." Sherlock smirked, and I couldn't help but chuckle a bit.  
"Hopefully I won't have to resort to that." Said I. "Shall we?" I asked donning my jacket. Sherlock's nimble fingers darting across the keyboard of his, or was that my, laptop before shutting it with a snap.  
"Very well then." He rouse putting on his scarf and coat. "No use arguing."  
"Right." Said I, and we made our way out to streets to dine.  
We went to another restaurant where Sherlock was known for helping someone or other out with their brush with crime and we hardly had to wait before our food arrived. I kept a close eye on Sherlock making sure he ate. That's when I saw the odd discoloration in my food. I picked it a bit, but it was an odd sort of green and put me off my food entirely.  
"Who's not eating now?"He asked eyeing me.  
"There's something off with my food." I replied hushed. He quickly eyed my plate, his sharp eyes instantly noticing the questionable content.  
"That's quite unfortunate." He said. "Send it back."  
"No, no, I'm done any way."  
"Really John, you ordered something you should not have to worry about its content, unless of course it was poisoned." He mused.  
"That's a pleasant thought, but really I don't want to be rude."  
"It is not rude to get what you want, I assure you." At that moment, the waitress walked by and Sherlock grabbed her attention.  
"There is clearly something wrong with my friends meal." He said motioning to my plate.  
"Oh," She replied. "That's probably just from the grill, do you want me to have them remake it for you?"  
"No, I'm done." I said.  
"It really is just from the grill." She reiterated.  
"Even if you could produce indisputable proof of such a fact, if we can really call it that, my friend here is clearly put off from his meal."  
"I'm terribly sorry," she said clearing up my plate.  
When we asked for the check we where please to discover that she did indeed remove my meal from the bill.  
"See," Sherlock smiled wrapping his scarf about him. "The service you expected was not met and therefore you where compensated for their mistake."  
"I suppose." Said I, before my phone went off.  
It was a text from Sarah:  
You free Friday? oh and is your mate free as well?

I decided to wait till we returned to 221 B before inquiring about Sherlock's plans for Friday. I figured it would be best to ask him in a more familiar environment. We made our way up the steps and I took up my spot in the chair after removing my jacket. Sherlock tossed his coat and scarf haphazardly across the back of another chair before plopping down on the couch, is long form spread out. We fell into a comfortable silence before I decided to take the chance, I cleared my throat.  
"So, any plans this weekend?"  
"Not unless a case crops up." He sighed picking up a magazine. "I do hope so, I could do with a really clever murder or robbery right now."  
"Well, if nothing arises would you be up for a little social engagement?" I asked feigning nonchalant.  
"Sounds dull." He replied. "I suppose Sarah has some involvement in this, then?"  
I knew better to be shocked by this, but all the same I also knew it was useless to lie to him.  
"She was just wondering if we were both free on Friday, that's all."  
"Hardly," He scoffed tossing the magazine and sitting up to face me. "It's a set up."  
"Now really, not everyone is out to get you." I rolled my eyes.  
"No, no, you misunderstand me. A friend of hers, who must be desperate by the looks of it, is looking for something and Sarah knows that I would be the most likely to be free on such a short notice."  
"Nonsense." said I, even though part of me knew it was true. "Perhaps her friend is a nice bloke." I jested as Sherlock glared at me.  
"I'm not available." He finally said.  
"Come on now, Sherlock." Said I. "I know this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, but really, you might get at least a shag out of it."  
"Trivial." He said. "That's suppose to entice me then?" He said sardonically.  
"Well, come on, you need to get laid." Said I.  
"That's your professional opinion, then." He glared at me.  
"What, yes, yes it is." There was silence. "Can you at least do this for me, or is that too much to ask?"  
"We'll see." He replied.  
"Great, I'll call Sarah and let her know." I rouse pulling out my cell and finding her number. I could feel is sharp eyes on me through out.  
"Hullo Sarah, yes yes how are you? I'm just fine. Yep Friday, definitely love to. Ran it by him, he'll come along. Yes well, it's Sherlock. Right see you then, bye."  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sherlock quirked an eyebrow at me as I turned to face him.  
"Nothing...I love you!" I smirked at him. His eyes narrowed.  
"I don't believe you."

Friday finally crept up and much to Sherlock's dismay no new cases came up to deter tonight's plans.  
"You about ready?" I asked pulling my jumper over my button down and walking into the sitting room. Sherlock sat stoically, fingers clasped under his chin, his form bent upon the desk his long feet resting on the chair below.  
"You even going to bother freshening up a bit?" I asked, his head turning towards me, regarding me airily with a quirked eyebrow. He rose upon the chair buttoning his blazer as he stepped down to the ground.  
"I am merely doing this as a favor to you, so you can "get off" as you say." Sherlock picked up his wool coat and shrugged into it before fastening his scarf. "Besides there is nothing wrong with my appearance."  
"Of course not." I rolled my eyes, grabbing my jacket and following him out to the street.  
Sherlock briskly hailed a cab and we were on our way. I had found out earlier in the day from Sarah that we were to meet at the concert hall and then have dinner. I assumed that at least Sherlock would get some enjoyment out of the concert, A Tribute to Mahler. We arrived a little later then I had anticipated and where quietly ushered to our seats. Sarah and what I assumed was her friend where all ready sitting I mouthed an apology and she silently introduced us to her mate Astell; a larger woman, not necessarily obese, but on the bigger side with overly dyed dark auburn hair and bulgy eyes. Sherlock simply gave a curt nod before the music commenced.  
I must admit that I couldn't recall ever seeing Sherlock in such a state. He was utterly transfixed, his eye lids drawn, but by no means sleeping. It was as if he was listening at higher level of consciousness that us mere mortals aren't capable of. Sarah had grabbed my hand a while back and simply smiled at me warmly when I turned towards her direction. Her friend was quite asleep next her, her mouth slack.  
This is going to me an interesting night I thought before focusing once again on the concert.  
The concert drew to an end and Sherlock sprang up with an enthused applaud rivaling the rest and startling Astell out of her slumber.  
"Brilliant," he smirked looking down at us in our seats. "I mean naturally Mahler is one of my favorites, but that young soloist. I dare say has quite the promising career ahead of her."  
"Yes it was quite good." I said rising, Sarah nodding in agreement.  
"It's actually over, then." Astell yawned.  
Sherlock's sharp eyes narrowing as he regarded her appalling "Quite."  
"Right, dinner, then." I interjected hoping to break the ice that I knew Sherlock's cold gaze could precipitate.  
The short cab ride to the restaurant seemed to last ages, and whether it was nerves or lack of experience Sarah's mate just would not stop babbling.  
"So I told him, I was like I dunno what ya hopping to get out of this mate, but I am not that sort of lady. By any means... ya know?" She giggled obnoxiously.  
We all just silently nodded, Sarah had a semi worried expression on her face and Sherlock's face was clearly pained. This really was going to be interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

It may be hard to believe, but Sherlock was capable of pulling the charm out when he wanted to.

I figured he thought he would be able to somewhat subdue Astell and calm her nerves a bit.

"That is quite the lovely pendant, opal is it not?" Sherlock smirked sipping from the preset water glass. Of course he all ready knew the answer.

"Oh, this old thing, ya it is." She smiled crookedly. "They always say that is bad luck to wear opal if it ain't your birthstone, ya know; but I must have it some where's in me chart cause I haven't it lost it yet and it clearly ain't broke. Me mate Jen, though, she had a ring wit the same stone. Gone forever, that." She waved her hand wildly. "Quite the story too, and funny thing me boss at work calls me Jen sometimes or Sarah. I guess I must look like one, ya know." She laughed obnoxiously smacking Sherlock's shoulder.

Sarah just kind of rolled her eyes.

I just starred, shock was plainly painting my face as I looked over the table at Sherlock. I feigned a smile as he glared daggers at me. I knew I would be in for it later.

"So astrology," I interjected, lucky to get a word in. "Stars aren't really Sherlock's forte." I smiled.

"Indeed, not." He agreed.

"Oh well I gots loads of books at me flat. Maybe if you're lucky I'll learn you something, then ya really be seeing stars." She winked at Sherlock and I faintly heard an 'Oh dear god' from under his breath. The waitress finally arrived for our drink orders and to my surprise Sherlock ordered wine along with the rest of us.

"Your drinks will be up in a moment." She smiled before leaving. As soon as she left a bus boy dropped of the basket of bread.

"I'm aving that." Astell said grabbing a large chunk of the bread and taking a bite. "I am starving I 'avent eaten' since 4." She gracelessly spoke and I saw Sherlock take a cursory glance at his watch.

Thankfully things got a bit quiet as we perused the menu and I was able to at least somewhat chat with Sarah, even if it was only about the dinner selections.

"Are you all ready, then?" The bubbly waitress asked her pen at the ready.

"Yes, I believe we are." Sherlock smiled. "Ladies first then."

Sarah ordered the Chicken after Astell ordered the beef wellington with chips. I ordered the pasta as did Sherlock, which I could all ready tell had no intention of eating it.

"All right that'll be up for you in a bit." The waitress beamed before turning on her heel to see to the next table.

"Well, I think I'm gunna pop off to the loo." Astell smiled before casting a meaningful look at Sarah.

"Oh right, yes me too." She said picking up on the not so discreet hint.

"Now no talking about us girls while we are away." Astell stated loudly as the rose from the table. "Oh go on then." She bursted out loudly before the girls turned heading towards the toilets.

Sherlock at first just looked at me. "She's quite the lady." I said looking about the restaurant.

"She is appalling. And I dare say she is as much Sarah's friend as that nana at the table over there." He seethed.

"Well, if it is any consolation I appreciate it." I smiled as he just quirked an eyebrow at me. The hard-drive behind his eyes turning away.

"Right." He said before grabbing the waitresses attention. "Could you be a dear and bring me a large scotch please." He smiled sardonically.

"Of course, sir."

"Lovely, so this is your plan then?" I asked as he quickly downed his generous glass of wine. "You adding drinking to your repertoire, now."

"Don't be ridiculous," He glared at me as the waitress brought him the liquor. "I am simply taking precautions." With that he downed about half before telling the girl that another one would be required.


	3. Chapter 3

Def more to come, let me know what you think...Also there maybe some S.H./J.W. fun in later chapters (if you know what I mean) unless you don't think that would be good...

Anyway, let me know. ;D

* * *

"Think of it merely as an experiment. " He smirked at me as the next scotch was dropped off and the ladies returned to the table.

"Ooo, an experiment, eh?" Astell smiled sliding heavily into her chair. "How very sientifical, don't be trying anything funny." She insinuated waging her finger with a wink. "The boys are plotting against us, in our absence."

Sarah, smiled knowingly. "I highly doubt that, Astell."

"You're prob right, dear. They just missed us terribly, didn't you?" Astell asked as though she was talking to a child and played with Sherlock's hair by his ear.

"You have no, idea." Sherlock replied moving out of her grasp and downing the new scotch in one, simultaneously ordering yet another.

"So, you're a doctor too then?" Astell said, turning her pig like eyes on me.

"Yes, yes, I am. That's ac…" I said before being quickly cut off.

"I had me a doctor once, Topher, remember Sarah? God, what a bore he was I used to call him me little button-up. He was wound so tight, he was, I just had to chuck him." She turned her attention back to Sherlock completely oblivious to her rudeness. "His loss though, eh, I always liked me the weird ones anyway." She leered at Sherlock. "So you a detective, then? Like James Bond. Oh, Sarah, look I gots me a Bond." She through her arm around Sherlock shoulders, my hands clenched at the discomfort that was clearly befalling my flat mate.

"Is this another ex of yours then?" Sherlock inquired. Astell just looked dumbly at him and I couldn't help but chuckle.

"He's a fictional character, Sherlock." Sarah smiled at him.

"A spy to be exact, I believe." I said.

"A spy is quite different then a detective," Sherlock said deadpan, the alcohol all ready kicking in. Yep, he's a lightweight, I thought. "And I am a consulting detective to be exact." He finished.

"Eh, same difference, I'm sure." Astell said.

"Not at all, madam." He shot back.

"Well excuse me," She replied moving her head back and forth. "Somebody's got his knickers in a twist." She said aside, before giggling obnoxiously.

"As if anything you do or say could even remotely affect something close to my knickers." Sherlock said under his breath, and I nearly choked on my wine. I cleared my throat as Sarah helpfully patted me on the back.


	4. Chapter 4

Finally our food had arrived and as soon as Astell's plate hit the table she was plunging mouth first into it. I picked up my fork pausing before tucking in and noticed Sherlock casting a look down his nose, eyebrow arched at her disgusting manners; or lack thereof.

True to form, Sherlock did not touch his pasta. Choosing, instead, to stick to his new copious dietary need of scotch. It was only in the activity of enjoying our meal that other's could get a word in, so Sarah took Astell's respite to tell the story of how we met and our work together. I took this as my chance to take a brief aside to Sherlock, leaning gently toward him.

"You think you might fancy a bite of that pasta there?" I motioned with my fork before taking a quick sip of my wine Sherlock merely looking at me with semi-glassy eyes. "You know sop up some of that liquid, there."

Sherlock smiled a tight lipped smile and my stomach turned slightly at the mischievousness behind that look. "I assured you, dear Johnny, that I find I have no appetite at present; especially with that ruckus mastication." He motioned blatantly at Astell slurring here and there… And did he really call me Johnny?

"Right then," was all I could dumbly reply, once again miles behind where Sherlock's thoughts dwelled. We finished our meals and no surprise Astell was done first; her chubby fingers all ready clutching the card of desserts as she perused her options. Sherlock was propped up on elbow pinching the bridge of his nose; it was in a way good to know that alcohol could still affect such a being as the Sherlock Holmes.

"You are not seriously going to order dessert on top of that meal which you so quickly devoured," He sighed. "Did you even chew it? Or did you opt for the bite and swallow method, not unlike a snake." He looked up at her coldly.

"I assure ya mate, I swallow but I don't bite." She smirked contorting her face and leaning in to whisper to him. "Hard any way," she giggled loudly. Sherlock's face blanched, utter revulsion gracing his features.

"You are utterly revolting." Sherlock snapped at her. "I would expect a little decorum, from a woman in your clearly desperate predicament; then again you are clearly desperate." He rouse shakily, bumping the table in his drunkenness causing Sarah to gasp as we all made sure our beverages wouldn't tumble over. He paused, whether it was for dramatic effect or to make sure he could keep the contents of his stomach down, it was hard to tell. "I would not touch you with a hazmat suite let alone a 20 meter pole, you chav tart." Astell's bulgy eyes grew wide in horror and complete shock.

"I've never." She gasped. How no one had ever spoken to her like this before was hard to believe.

"Sherlock!" I rouse grasping his back to steady him. "Was that really necessary?" He glared at me pushing me off.

"Don't be so polite, Dr. John." He scoffed. "Everyone is thinking it, and do not pretend otherwise." He snapped motioning wildly as he spoke swinging around. "And Sarah, really don't you think it's about time to cease this charade and tell your _dear friend _Astellthat you do not count her as a friend let alone a close one." He wagged his finger at her. I clasped my hand over his mouth.

"That is enough Sherlock." His eyes narrowed at me. "I'm so sorry he really never drinks, I dunno what's got into him, well besides the scotch." I said chuckling briefly as Sarah shoot daggers at me, and then Sherlock licked my hand in a child like attempt to remove the offending appendage from his mouth.

"I believe it's time to go." Sarah said curtly before rising and going to help Astell.

* * *

Sorry this took so long I'm trying my best to finish this ASAP and the next two chapters will hopefully be done in the next few days!

But low and behold this next part will be a choose your own adventure! Go to Chapter 5 if you think Sherlock and John should have a romance or Chapter 6 if it's strictly Bromance! ;D


	5. Chapter 5

You have Chosen The S/J romance version: If this is correct proceed if not go to chapter 6

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Astell's face was still contorted in controlled anger and shock her all ready bulgy eyes huge and watering. I overheard Sarah scold herself under her breath about why she thought this would work out, as she helped Astell stand up and put on her jacket.

"I'm going to see Astell, home." Sarah said dryly. "I'll see you at work." She stiffly glared at Sherlock before nodding, turning on her heal and ushering Astell through the barrage of tables. She was clearly angry, and for good reason.

"That went well." I said sarcastically, motioning the waitress for the check. I realized my hand was still firmly clamped over Sherlock's mouth and tentatively released him. He met my gaze briefly his eyes still narrowed at me but not really in there usually cold manner and he remained quiet for a moment.

"Well it's about time, I dare say." Sherlock spat looking off to where Sarah and Astell had just made their exit. He swayed on his feet a bit, going into some tangent about how it was a fool's errand that Sarah could ever hope to properly set up someone with that beast. I shook my head sighing heavily and tuned him out as I steadied him, helping him into his long coat and handed him his silly scarf as I shrugged into my jacket; so much for the end of the evening I had been hoping for.

The girl quickly returned shooting me an understanding apologetic look for what had happened with our dates, if I could really call Astell that. I dragged Sherlock out of the restaurant and stood on the sidewalk debating whether it would be better to call a cab and get back to the flat promptly, or walk back to sober him up a bit.

While weighing the pros and cons of these Sherlock was leaning on me his forehead resting on my shoulder his body swaying ever so slightly, and I became hyper aware of just how close we where.

"Johhhhnnnnn," He huffed. "Just hail a damn cab all ready." Sherlock wined reading my mind again. "Is not hard, by any means, see?" He grabbed hold of my coat sleeve and waved my arm in the air.

"Sherlock, let go." I shook him of and he tipped back a bit before I pulled him forward once again steadying him on his feet. "I suppose walking _is_ out of the question." I mocked.

Sherlock rolled his and loudly harrumphed. "I just told you that."

"No no you didn't, not directly any way." I corrected him.

"Well, does thinking it count then?" he asked. "Really if I can be bothered enough to read your mind at least have the courtesy to return the favor. It saves so much time then this…" He motioned back and forth between us, as I waited for the word to come to him.

"Talking, you mean." I said looking down on him is head now, somehow, back against my shoulder.

"Exactly," He pointed his finger in my face. "That wasn't sooo hard now was it? Honestly John… John. Cab."

I can honestly say I never thought I'd see Sherlock drunk like this, I had heard he had some other vices in the past, but I didn't think that he'd ever do something quite like this. The street we currently found ourselves on was one of the quieter streets and I was waiting to see a cab in order to hail it.

"I can't just make one appear for you, Sherlock." I chided him. "Just because you want one."

"You should." He glared at me.

"You're lucky I'm even still here, mate." I reminded him. "First off getting drunk and then being so unspeakably rude to that poor girl." Sherlock giggled, honest to god, he giggled.

"Poor girl," he scoffed. "Do not tell me that I only did what you wish you could have done. She was the rude, vile, putrescent one. She cutting you off mid conversation was the last straw. Johhhn." He put his arms upon my shoulders, still hunched over so we where almost eye to eye. His pale eyes boring into mine and I couldn't help but squirm a bit. "You're not even mad." He said reading through my expression. It was true, I was kind of mad since I didn't get to stay with Sarah, but Sherlock in his own freak like way stood up for me.

"Jesus, you are even more insufferable pissed then you are sober." I informed him.

"Yes," he agreed. "But a lot more..." he paused looking for the word again his hand resting on my chest and I was extremely aware of its weight.

"Uncontrolled, looser, silly?" I offered.

He shook his head, "Wobbly." He decided clutching his eyes shut and punctuating his words by wobbling on his feet and leaning closer once again to me his head upon my shoulder and his mouth near the exposed part of my neck. I swallowed audibly; I don't know why he was eliciting such reactions from me.

First of all I like Sarah, she's a girl, my mind offered lamely and I was glad that Sherlock couldn't fully read my simple minded thoughts. Sherlock is attractive I will admit, quite attractive actually, and drunk, my mind offered again. Impossibly drunk and that would be wrong, so wrong, it is wrong you can't take advantage of that. You wouldn't. Secondly he ruined my date, I'm mad at that...I should be mad at that… why am I not mad at that.

I was broken from my reverie by Sherlock's breath upon my skin as he snuggled into the crook of my neck. Finally I saw a cab coming down the road and I motioned it down and disrupting Sherlock from his place upon me and he let out a unhappy grunt.

* * *

Continue to Chapter 7


	6. Chapter 6

If you chose S/J Bromance Continue onward! If not go back to Chapter 5

* * *

Astell's face was still contorted in controlled anger and shock her all ready bulgy eyes huge and watering. I overheard Sarah scold herself under her breath about why she thought this would work out, as she helped Astell stand up and put on her jacket.

She came over to me to say goodbye "I'm going to see Astell, home." Sarah said dryly.

"I'm really sorry, I tried to stop him." I said lamely.

"I know, its fine, really." She assured me. "I don't know what I was thinking. Get him home, eh." She smiled tightly. "I'll call you later." She quickly pecked my cheek turning on her heal and ushering Astell through the barrage of tables.

"That went, better than expected actually." I said, motioning the waitress for the check. I realized my hand was still firmly clamped over Sherlock's mouth and promptly released him.

"Well it's about time, I dare say." Sherlock spat looking off to where Sarah and Astell had just made their exit. He swayed on his feet a bit, going into some tangent about how it was a fool's errand that Sarah could ever hope to properly set up someone with that beast. I shook my head sighing heavily and tuned him out as I made sure he wouldn't topple over, helping him into his long coat and handed him his silly scarf as I shrugged into my jacket; so much for the end of the evening I had been hoping for. At least Sarah didn't seem to upset. Sherlock was probably right about how they aren't really good friends, but that still begs the question of why she would set her up with Sherlock.

"She wanted to break it off, it's simple really." Sherlock said answering my thoughts. "Who would want that for any type of a relationship is beyond me, even an acquaintance is too close to be to her."

The girl quickly returned shooting me an understanding apologetic look for what had happened with our dates, if I could really call what transpired with Astell and Sherlock, that. I dragged Sherlock out of the restaurant and stood on the sidewalk debating whether it would be better to call a cab and get back to the flat promptly, or walk back to sober him up a bit.

While weighing the pros and cons of these Sherlock was leaning on me in order to remain upright. His body swaying ever so slightly, I frowned to myself hoping that his little tirade wasn't an indication that he as an angry drunk.

"Johhhhnnnnn," He huffed. "Just hail a damn cab all ready." Sherlock wined reading my mind again. "Is not hard, by any means, see?" He grabbed hold of my coat sleeve and waved my arm in the air.

"Sherlock, let go." I shook him of and he tipped back a bit before I pulled him forward once again steadying him on his feet. "I suppose walking _is_ out of the question." I mocked.

Sherlock rolled his and loudly harrumphed. "I just told you that."

"No no you didn't, not directly any way." I corrected him get an icy glare in return.

"I just want to have a lie down, or sit, where is the bloody cab." He shouted loudly.

"Calm down." I shushed him.

"Honestly John…" He rolled his eyes at me. "John. Cab."

I can honestly say I never thought I'd see Sherlock drunk like this, I had heard he had some other vices in the past, but I didn't think that he'd ever do something quite like this. The street we currently found ourselves on was one of the quieter streets and I was waiting to see a cab in order to hail it.

"I can't just make one appear for you, Sherlock." I chided him. "Just because you want one."

"You should." He glared at me.

"You're lucky I'm even still here, mate." I reminded him. "First off getting drunk and then being so unspeakably rude to that poor girl." Sherlock giggled, honest to god, he giggled.

"Poor girl," he scoffed. "Do not tell me that I only did what you wish you could have done. She was the rude, vile, putrescent one. Johhhn." He put his hand upon my shoulder, hunched over so we where almost eye to eye. "Sarah, isn't even mad at you, she'll take that cow home and call you up and you'll be well on your way to _getting off_ or whatever you call it." He motioned with his hand.

"Jesus, you are even more insufferable pissed then you are sober." I informed him. "And louder, for that matter."

"Yes," he agreed. "But a lot more..." he paused looking for the word again his hand resting on my chest and I was extremely aware of its weight.

"Uncontrolled, looser, silly?" I offered.

He shook his head, "Disconnect to myself." He decided clutching his eyes shut and punctuating his words by wobbling on his feet. Finally I saw a cab coming down the road and I motioned it down. It stopped abruptly in front of us with a harsh squeal of rubber. I opened the door and quickly deposited the inebriated Sherlock into it.

* * *

Continue the Bromance in Ch8!


	7. Chapter 7

If you Chose Romance continue onward... If not Bromance is CH.8

* * *

Once we were safely in the cab, Sherlock resumed his post of leaning against me, his head upon my shoulder.

"Maybe I should run away, John. Join the circus or something, do people still do that? Join the circus, I mean." He mumbled idly, not bothering to wait for my responses.

"Hmm," I said, gazing out the window and ignoring the subtle soap smell coming off Sherlock's head.

"That'll show them that I'm need, all the this waiting for another case nonsense. It's no good, John," He looked up at me his eyes imploring. "Save me from this ennui, I need to escape…" He trailed off, I audibly gulped, before clearing my throat.

"Perhaps a nice holiday, is what you need." I offered.

"Psh, a holiday. That's just what this week has been, don't you see." He scoffed. "A holiday, really John, how terribly common you are." He sat up at that leaning on the other side of the cab closing his eyes, and I admit I felt the loss of his weight upon me. We arrived at the flat, before I knew it and without a word Sherlock awakened from his light doze and staggered out of the cab towards the front. It was as if the motion of the stopping vehicle roused him, and he waited as impatient as ever.

"Pay the bloody man all ready, Johhhnnn." He shouted from the steps. "You have the keyyysss." I shook my head, as smart as he was I'm quite sure he'd forget his head if it weren't so important to his work. I quickly paid the cabby who glared at me, and drove off without a word.

"Steady on," I said, receiving an uninterested glare as he swayed switching from foot to foot, his hands thrust in his coat pockets, as if stamping off the cold. I pulled out the keys and he swayed into me, nearly knocking me over, I somehow managed to steady the both of us with an arm around his waist. Once I was sure he was stable, I quickly unlocked the door, "There you go, now get inside before you wake the neighbors."

"Dull." He huffed as he made is way up the stairs. It was rather quite comical, watching as his usually fluid movements where clumsy and stiff due to the liquor. I took my time hanging up my jacket in the hall closet, Mrs. Hudson was either thankfully a sleep or out. When I turned back around Sherlock was sitting on the steps, his eyes shut tight.

"Everything all right there, Sherlock?" I asked.

"This was a mistake." He stated simply. I moved to sit next to him, our shoulders brushing.

"What?" I questioned looking down at him. "The date? I dare say there have been worse, she left with her life what more could she want?" I jested.

"No not the date," He huffed, showing no glimpse of humor. "That went exactly as I intended." He shook his head rubbing the heal of his hands against his eyes. "The amount of alcohol, on the other hand."

"Oh, the drinking is it. I don't think it's a big deal if you get pissed ever now and again, Sherlock."

"Indeed," was his only reply as he stared off into space, his shoulders slumped and I realized I had been rubbing soothing circles against his back. I cleared my throat.

"Come on, than let's get you to bed. You'll feel better in the morning." I stood grabbing his arm to help him along. He simply just pulled back down bringing me back onto the step beside him. I looked at him questioning, turning his face to look at me. "What's the matter?" I whispered. It took me a moment to realize that the depression this man fall into when he has no current case would not be conducive to drinking.

"The work, John is all that matters." He breathed. "What am I without it, what is the point if there is nothing…" He trailed off, but I knew he was implying that then he is nothing, and it was breaking my heart.

"Hey, none of that now." I said my hand still on his chin, trying to get him to meet my eyes. "There will be a new case in no time and you'll be back afoot." I smiled gently. "You are worth a lot more than anyone realizes." I breathed, my thumb gently stroking the side of his face as his eyes came up to meet mine. He studied me a moment the softness of his gaze being replaced with his usual calculating glint. I'm not sure who moved first, but before I knew it our lips brushed. It was a quick chaste kiss, and it was over way too soon.

"Good night, John." Sherlock said hopping up and trudging up the stairs. It took a good minute for my brain to catch up and Sherlock was all ready up the stairs and in one of the rooms.

"Night," I said dazed my hand touching my mouth, unsure if that actually happened. I sat for a moment more before I heard a thud from up above. I rolled my eyes, either a criminal had picked the worst (or best from the criminals stand point) night to strike the detective or he had passed out. I hoped for the latter, but when Sherlock is involved nothing is ever predictable the kiss alone was proof of that. Cautiously I went up the stairs only to find that it was indeed the latter of the two options. Sherlock, was sprawled out on the floor his feet up on the couch and his arms lying straight, like a cross.

"Sherlock," I tried softly, unsure if he was in fact asleep or just had his eyes closed. "Wouldn't your bed be a bit more comfy?"

"Hmm, Details." he replied.

"How 'bout a cuppa?" I asked turning toward the kitchen and receiving a noncommittal grunt in reply. I busied myself with the tea preparation trying to not think about the kiss, I had finally got it down to an art considering all the biological and chemical obstacles that stood in my way. I returned to the next room a cup in each hand to find that Sherlock hadn't moved an inch. "Oi, Sherlock." I nudged his side with my foot, receiving another groan. "Tea." I stated bending down and placing the cup on his chest before sitting on the couch that contained his bare feet.

He remained motionless, however, save for the rise and fall of the mug perched upon him. I sipped my tea thoughtfully wondering if perhaps this little venture into inebriation was actually a blessing in disguise. He kissed me, or did I kiss him, we kissed. My mind finally stated, the schematics where irrelevant. I know it happened, but will he remember come morning, and if not should I tell him. Was it good, it was good, I think it was good. It was short, but I liked it, I knew that much. I decided to worry about it later, as see what morning would bring. Sherlock was want for a case as of late, but while this usually saw a bit of healthier behavior in sleeping and eating patterns (mixed with horrible depression type behavior) the last few weeks I cannot recall him getting any rest. There was always some experiment or he got sucked into a crap show on the telly. As a doctor and friend (and more?) I have tried to persuade him of certain things, but where he is concerned my medical expertise holds little to no value.

I finished the last dregs of my tea, and felt satisfied that it was best to let sleeping dogs lay. Plus if he moved at all the scalding liquid would be revenge enough for the night's events, concerning the date anyway. I returned my cup to the kitchen sink and turned out the lights. "'Night, Sherlock." I said before heading off to bed.

The next morning I was awoken by clattering and beeping coming from the main room of the flat. I smiled to myself, knowing that the great Sherlock Holmes was probably nursing a painful hangover and searching for something to end it. It was the method in which he was fixing the problem that wafted over me with worry, along with the smell of something burning. I dashed out of my bed and made my way to the common room to find Sherlock perched in his chair by the fireplace, mug in hand and a distant look in his eyes and a slight smile upon his lips.

"Wha, What's burning, what's that smell?" I asked not fully awake.

"I made coffee," He replied sidestepping my question. "That tea you made was quite horrible, John. Really, you couldn't be bothered to heat it up."He tentatively sipped his coffee.

I knew he was purposefully ignoring my question, because there was no way he didn't deduce that the mug was from last night. "I know the kiss was short, but I'd never suspect you'd be so vengeful about it." He smirked as I stood frozen, the incident last night coming back to me full force. I was shocked at how cavalier he was being about it all.

"Oh and there's a letter for you." He indicated to the envelope upon the other chair with his head as he rose from his seat and made off down the hall for the shower. I stared after him, shaking my head as I opened the simple white envelope, glad for a distraction, that simply read _John_ in precise print. I unfolded the letter and read it carefully:

_It should come as no surprise, but perhaps in your case it is still a surprise. I really couldn't say. Anyway, I have been made aware of the silly little excursion of drinking and, I dare say, dating that my brother was a part of last night. Firstly, bravo for convincing him to go along, needless to say mummy has quite given up on that area of my little brother's life. You do have quite the influence over him; he wouldn't do that for just anyone, you know. Secondly, thank you for making sure that Sherlock behaved himself, while my brother has had some nasty vices in the past drinking was never really his area and therefore he can really be quite the handful whilst inebriated. Welcome to the family. _

_ Regards,_

_ M.H._

"Bloody hell," I whispered under my breath, only the Holmes' I shook my head. "You couldn't have just texted?" I asked the air, before noticing the final lines of the letter:

_P.S. I know what you're thinking, I could have just texted this, but where is the fun in that? Enjoy the fruit basket._

"Christ!" I swore, crumpling up the letter. It's not big brother that's watching us it Mycroft. I shook my head before realizing that he had mentioned a fruit basket. I glanced around the room but found nothing of the sort, before a thought crossed my mind and I moved cautiously into the kitchen. I still had yet to see the afore mentioned fruit basket, but then I went to the microwave and gently opened the door of it. I was met with a big gust of smoke and the site of horrible molted fruit carnage. "SHERLOCK!" I yelled, clenching my fists in disbelief. I could only imagine what those brothers were like as children.

As if on cue Sherlock sauntered back into the room, fresh from the shower. Without even pausing he reached past me for the coffee pot trailing his hand up my arm and nonchalantly poured himself more coffee.

"It was probably poisoned." He stated taking a sip from his coffee a small smirk gracing the corner of his mouth, before turning to go back to the next room. "No need to thank me," He waved.

I just stared after him in disbelief.

THE END!


	8. Chapter 8

Here Be bromance, For Romance go back to Ch.7

* * *

The cab ride home was thankfully uneventful, Sherlock dozing quietly next to me as I replayed the evening's events in my head. We arrived at the flat, before I knew it and without a word Sherlock awakened and staggered out of the cab towards the front. It was as if the motion of the stopping vehicle roused him, and he waited as impatient as ever.

"Pay the bloody man all ready, John." He shouted from the steps. "You have the keys." I shook my head, as smart as he was I'm quite sure he'd forget his head if it weren't so important to his work. I quickly paid the cabby who glared at me, and drove off without a word.

"Steady on," I said, receiving an uninterested glare as he swayed switching from foot to foot, his hands thrust in his coat pockets, as if stamping off the cold. I quickly unlocked the door, "There you go, now get inside before you wake the neighbors."

"Dull." He huffed as he made is way up the stairs. It was rather quite comical, watching as his usually fluid movements where clumsy and stiff due to the liquor. I took my time hanging up my jacket in the hall closet, Mrs. Hudson was either thankfully a sleep or out, then I heard a thud from up above. I rolled my eyes, either a criminal had picked the worst (or best from the criminals stand point) night to strike the detective or he had passed out. I hoped for the latter, but when Sherlock is involved nothing is ever predictable. Cautiously I went up the stairs only to find that it was indeed the latter of the two options. Sherlock, was sprawled out on the floor his feet up on the couch and his arms lying straight, like a cross.

"Sherlock," I tried softly, unsure if he was in fact asleep or just had his eyes closed. "Wouldn't your bed be a bit more comfy?"

"Hmm," he replied. "I have things to do."

"You don't even have a case." I chided him.

"Details," he replied.

"How 'bout a cuppa?" I asked turning toward the kitchen and receiving a noncommittal grunt in reply. I busied myself with the tea preparation, finally getting it down to an art considering all the biological and chemical obstacles that stood in my way. I returned to the next room a cup in each hand to find that Sherlock hadn't moved an inch. "Oi, Sherlock." I nudged his side with my foot, receiving another groan. "Tea." I stated bending down and placing the cup on his chest before sitting on the couch that contained his bare feet.

He remained motionless, however, save for the rise and fall of the mug perched upon him. I sipped my tea thoughtfully wondering if perhaps this little venture into inebriation was actually a blessing in disguise. He was want for a case as of late, but while this usually saw a bit of healthier behavior in sleeping and eating patterns (mixed with horrible depression type behavior) the last few weeks I cannot recall him getting any rest. There was always some experiment or he got sucked into a crap show on the telly. As a doctor I have tried to persuade him of certain things, but where he is concerned my medical expertise holds little to no value.

I finished the last dregs of my tea, and felt satisfied that it was best to let sleeping dogs lay. Plus if he moved at all the scalding liquid would be revenge enough for the night's events. I returned my cup to the kitchen sink and turned out the lights. "'Night, Sherlock." I said before heading off to bed.

The next morning I was awoken by clattering and beeping coming from the main room of the flat. I smiled to myself, knowing that the great Sherlock Holmes was probably nursing a painful hangover and searching for something to end it. It was the method in which he would he was fixing the problem that wafted over me with worry, along with the smell of something burning. I dashed out of my bed and made my way to the common room to find Sherlock perched in his chair by the fireplace, mug in hand and a distant look in his eyes.

"Wha, What's burning, what's that smell?" I asked.

"I made coffee," He replied sidestepping my question. "That tea you made was quite horrible, John. Really, you couldn't be bothered to heat it up."He tentatively sipped his coffee.

I knew he was purposefully ignoring my question, because there was no way he didn't deduce that the mug was from last night. "Oh and there's a letter for you." He indicated to the envelope upon the other chair with his head as he rose from his seat and made off down the hall for the shower. I stared after him, shaking my head as I opened the simple white envelope that simply read _John_ in precise print. I unfolded the letter and read it carefully:

_It should come as no surprise, but perhaps in your case it is still a surprise. I really couldn't say. Anyway, I have been made aware of the silly little excursion of drinking and, I dare say, dating that my brother was a part of last night. Firstly, bravo for convincing him to go along, needless to say mummy has quite given up on that area of my little brother's life. Secondly, thank for making sure that Sherlock behaved himself, while my brother has had some nasty vices in the past drinking was never really his area and therefore he can really be quite the handful whilst inebriated. _

_ Regards,_

_ M.H._

"Bloody hell," I whispered under my breath, only the Holmes' I shook my head. "You couldn't have just texted?" I asked the air, before noticing the final lines of the letter:

_P.S. I know what you're thinking, I could have just texted this, but where is the fun in that? Enjoy the fruit basket._

"Christ!" I swore, crumpling up the letter. It's not big brother that's watching us it Mycroft. I shook my head before realizing that he had mentioned a fruit basket. I glanced around the room but found nothing of the sort, before a thought crossed my mind and I moved cautiously into the kitchen. I still had yet to see the afore mentioned fruit basket, but then I went to the microwave and gently opened the door of it. I was met with a big gust of smoke and the site of horrible molted fruit carnage. "SHERLOCK!" I yelled, clenching my fists in disbelief. I could only imagine what those brothers were like as children.

As if on cue Sherlock sauntered back into the room, fresh from the shower. Without even pausing he reached past me for the coffee pot and nonchalantly poured himself more coffee.

"It was probably poisoned." He stated taking a sip from his coffee before turning to go back to the next room. "No need to thank me."

I just stared after him in disbelief.

THE END!


End file.
